


Dust or Gold

by feverbeats



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Haven't you been paying attention out there? No, I s'pose not. Too busy with the real work. You haven’t seen them? Cat and her three little birds?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust or Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bessemerprocess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/gifts).



_“Let me help you,” Cat says. That’s her first mistake._

_She makes a lot of mistakes. She tells Bruce a lot of things she shouldn’t. That he’s nice. That he’s crazy. That she’ll be around. Some of those are lies._

_“The kids are fine,” Alfred tries to tell Jim the first night Batman and Catwoman appear on the streets. Jim shakes his head, but he doesn’t try to stop them, because he’s already learned that he doesn’t have the tools he needs for this war and never will._

_The problem with Cat is that she’s not as selfish as she pretends. The problem with Bruce is that he hasn’t got just one problem. The problem with Jim Gordon is that he believes too much in things that are not likely to happen._

_Nobody ever asks what Alfred’s problem is, because what would they do without him?_

**Bruce**

Bruce has another meeting.

People are always asking him when he has time to sleep. The socialites at his parties ask him that. Between all the drinking, spending time with your lovely wife, and the damn meetings, ha ha, when do you have time for sleep? He laughs it off. The other people who ask him already know the truth.

He thought, once, that he could keep it a secret. Not from Alfred, of course. That would be impossible. But from everyone else. But that was before Selina and Jim refused to get out of his life. It was before Stephanie, too, but there are plenty of other things she doesn’t know, for balance.

(Helena doesn’t know. Bruce wonders how long he can keep that up.)

Today’s meeting isn’t one of the ones that takes place in Wayne Tower, one of the last buildings in Gotham that hasn’t fallen into decay. It’s the other kind, the kind you’re required to have if you’re one of Gotham’s elite.

Bruce checks his expensive cufflinks (Selina got them for him, and he’s not sure where) and steps into the Iceberg Lounge. The bouncers always let him in, even though they’ve surely been told he doesn’t cooperate like the mayor.

“Bruce! You came alone today.”

Bruce won’t bring Jim here anymore. Jim has had to put up with enough from Cobblepot.

“I hope you’re not starting with threats right off the bat,” Bruce says pleasantly. “You know I prefer meeting at my office.”

“And you know I have a few too many restraining order to go there right now,” Cobblepot says, chuckling benevolently. He’s been out of Arkham maybe a week now, this time. He’s always a little less unhinged when he’s just been released, and that gives Bruce a tiny sliver of hope about the place.

“Let’s get down to business,” Bruce says.

Cobblepot stalks around the bar. They’re not alone—there are always a few dancers, singers, comedians nobody laughs at. “This time, it’s simple. I need a loan. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s your area of interest.”

Bruce listens to the cadence of Cobblepot’s voice as it veers and wobbles. Not so sane after all. “Go on.”

“The Arkham District,” Cobblepot says, going suddenly serious and lacing his fingers together in front of him.

Always the Arkham District.

“That’s spoken for,” Bruce says. He plays with his cufflinks so he can keep track of them. There’s some new muscle here, lurking in the background. That one comedian Cobblepot keeps failing to kill. Two new singers. One of them moves like she’s been in the military, so Bruce will keep his eyes open.

“For now.” Cobblepot smiles. “Bruce. I know it’s your legacy. But let’s be honest, the asylum is _not_ living up to its potential.”

“So you want me to help you get your hands on it? Why, so you can have it demolished?” That would benefit Cobblepot. They couldn’t keep locking him up in it.

“It’s all about real estate,” Cobblepot says. “Not what _is_ there, but what _could_ be.”

“I’m not interested,” Bruce says.

“What about a drink?”

As always, he refuses the drink. As always, his cufflinks have somehow disappeared by the time he leaves. He lets the girl who shows him out take them, so they’ll believe the lie of Bruce Wayne. It’s interesting, the question of the Arkham District again. He’ll have a word with the doctors, make sure they’re not planning on selling the asylum or the land it’s on. He almost misses the mafia dons, who were at least predictable.

That night, there’s another party at his house. He’s distracted, halfway to Batman already. He keeps glaring at people when he doesn’t mean to. Sometimes he wishes he could be Selina, who doesn’t even pretend to be someone she’s not.

She looks beautiful tonight, her earrings matching the cufflinks he lost. The two of them look like exactly what they’re supposed to be: Gotham’s favorite beautiful, rich, celebrity couple.

He calls her Selina. She calls him Bruce. They’re both lying.

Halfway through the party, he sees Selina across the room, answering her phone. He knows it’s Jim, who doesn’t call him anymore.

After Selina slips out, Bruce finds Alfred, who usually avoids these parties. He’s in the kitchen, reading a cookbook.

“What’s that?” Bruce asks.

“What’s it look like?” Alfred asks. He puts it down. “Gone, is she?”

“Yes. Alfred, do you think—”

“I think she’ll do what she does. She always has. What’s really bothering you?”

Bruce grits his teeth and thinks about leaving right now and actually catching up with Selina. “It’s Robin,” he says. It feels strange to say the name here, in his kitchen, wearing a suit and tie.

Alfred’s expression is unreadable. “What about her?”

“She hasn’t been answering her phone lately. Not consistently.”

“You’re worried, then. Afraid she’s getting caught back up in things with her father?”

Bruce hadn’t thought of that, and he immediately feels bad. Robin’s father isn’t in Arkham. He’s not even in prison. In fact, Bruce should probably pay him a visit. “Or I’m starting to doubt her commitment.” He steps further into the kitchen, so there’s no risk or anyone overhearing them.

Alfred shrugs. “She’s a child. What, sixteen? No sixteen-year-old is completely committed to anything.”

“I was,” Bruce says.

Alfred doesn’t answer.

“I have to go,” Bruce says.

He slips away from the party and downstairs. On the way, he calls Robin. As usual, she doesn’t answer.

It takes him an embarrassing twenty minutes to find Catwoman. She’s on the roof of one of the Arkham Asylum outbuildings.

“We’ve come a long way from you chasing me across rooftops,” she says.

“Cute,” Batman growls. “Where’s Robin?” He still doesn’t know how to talk to her when they’re dressed like this. He doesn’t know who they are to each other.

Catwoman shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if she were here, she’d need backup right about now.” She brings her wrist up to her mouth and speaks into it. “Jim, update?”

Before she can look up, Batman is gone.

**Jim**

Jim flips his phone shut and stares at it. He’s working late again, but the kid’s more than old enough to be home by herself. He tells himself that.

“Was that her?”

Jim swivels around in his chair. Montoya’s almost as good as Batman is at coming in silently. She’s got her rookie partner with her, too.

“Yeah,” he says.

“I can’t believe you really work with her,” the rookie bursts out. He has the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

“Don’t sweat it,” Montoya tells Jim. “I gave him the whole rundown. He gets it.”

“It’s a little depressing,” the rookie says, “basically having our orientation be that we’re so bad at our jobs we need to team up with—you know.”

“That’s not exactly what I said.” Montoya looks at him appraisingly. “But Catwoman crosses lines we can’t.” She glances at Jim when she says it.

Jim’s tried to explain that about a lot of people, over the years. After Dent, he can’t believe in crossing lines anymore, not the same ones. Not the ones Batman crosses. But Catwoman is different. She learned different things and in different places.

After he fills Montoya and the rookie—Grayson—in on the asylum problem, Jim asks Montoya to stay behind for a minute.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” she says. “And it’s too soon to tell.”

Montoya’s only known about Catwoman—about who she is--for a year. She figured it out on her own. Batman, she still doesn’t know about. Jim knows, of course. He couldn’t _not_ know. He saw the whole disaster from the beginning, every step painfully clear as it led to now. Now, when he can’t even talk to Batman _or_ Bruce without getting into a fight.

“Is he a good cop, though?” Jim asks. Thinking about the possible answers makes him tired.

“Yeah,” Montoya says. “And if he tries not to be, I’ll be there. Don’t worry, I won’t fuck that up. But I’m not ready to tell him anything yet. The last thing Selina needs is more people on her ass while she’s trying to work.”

Jim agrees, privately. “She found something else at the asylum, she said. Something related to Dent’s breakout she thinks.”

Montoya grimaces. “He’s out again? Huh. I lost track. Are you going to be—”

“Fine,” Jim says quickly. This is not a day to think about any of his long string of failures. “Anyway, I’m going to have Selina run it by Pepper.”

“ _Doctor_ Pepper,” Montoya says, without any of the humor the rest of the squad sees in the name. “I swear, she’s terrifying.”

For good reason, though. Jim can forgive a lot, and besides, she’s good at forensics. “So was the last one.”

He hasn’t seen Eddie in months, and only then at a distance. Jim doesn’t like to visit Arkham.

“Hey,” he says, “that reminds me of something. What happened to the girl? The Cluemaster’s daughter?”

Montoya shrugs. “Foster care, maybe? I didn’t really ask.”

Jim should always remember to ask. After busting Eddie and the Cluemaster, they were busy enough cleaning up the mess that they didn’t ask questions. But kids in this city aren’t safe just anywhere, and he suddenly has a horrible feeling that he knows. That shock of blonde hair isn’t exactly subtle. “I have to go,” he says.

He hates driving to the manor, but Bruce is usually out, and Alfred usually won’t meet him anywhere else.

“It’s late,” Alfred says when he lets him in. There’s clearly been some kind of party here, although none of the guests remain.

“Can I come in?” Jim asks.

“In an official capacity?”

“No,” Jim says shortly, stepping inside. “Bruce and Selina are out?”

Alfred nods. “Or below.”

He and Alfred are doing well, Jim thinks. They’re communicating like the adults they are. They’re very nearly getting along, even. 

He isn’t sure how they wound up like this. He meant, he really did, to help Bruce. But that was before he realized Bruce was already beyond help the moment they met. It’s just too bad Alfred won’t see that. (Or he does see it and he just doesn’t care.) But this new thing, with Robin, it’s too much for Jim, and it should be too much for Alfred, too. Jim wishes a lot of things could be different. Everything he can’t support in Bruce is something Alfred coaxed out of him.

“I have to ask,” he says. “About Robin.”

“What about her?”

Jim used to find Alfred’s stubbornness charming. Not right now. “I need to know if she’s Arthur Brown’s daughter.”

“What difference would it make if she were?”

Jim wishes Alfred would offer him a seat. “I’d like to know that girl’s all right, that’s all.”

Alfred opens his mouth and then shuts it. “You mean if it is her, you’ll know to worry.”

Jim takes a deep breath. “Involving kids in this isn’t right,” he says.

Alfred gives him one of those long, angry, appraising looks he’s good at. “And you’re suggesting Selina isn’t doing the same thing? What am I, blind?”

Maybe Jim’s blind. “What?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention out there? No, I s’pose not. Too busy with the real work. You haven’t seen them? Cat and her three little birds?”

**Cat**

Cat isn’t sure who’s going to lecture her first. It might be Bruce, over Steph. It might be Jim over Babs. It might be Bruce over _Helena_. It might be Alfred, over the whole thing.

“You didn’t you could hide them forever, did you? Or even more than a few weeks? They look good together, though. Blonde, red-head, black-haired beauty.”

Cat really hates the Penguin. “Girls, get out of here,” she snaps.

The only one who moves is Jay, and she only takes a few steps back, so she’s partially behind Cat. Where Cobblepot can’t see her hands.

“They don’t take orders very well,” Cobblepot says. Cat had really hoped he wouldn’t be here, in the outbuilding at the edge of Arkham. She thought he might be involved in the breakouts, but she didn’t think he’d be here personally. Not tonight.

Cat just wants to get out of here before somebody gets shot. She’s almost looking forward to getting a lecture from whoever it is who steps up first.

“Tell you what,” Cobblepot chirps, “Why don’t we get to know each other? You can call me Penguin, girls. Everybody does. And I know you. You’re Robin. Are we all birds, here?”

Robin huffs and keeps her fists raised.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Cobblepot muses. “You see, I’ve been making a lot of friends. It turns out when you have the keys, people are just lining up to share with you.”

Cat’s fingers tighten around the ring of keys. The literal keys to the literal cells of the asylum. Their timing was good. It would have been better if they’d come weeks ago and stopped Two-Face from escaping. Better still if they’d come an hour ago and stopped the Riddler.

“But you two,” Cobblepot says. “I’m just not sure. Oh well! I’ll get there. I always do.”

Cat doesn’t tell him that this whole plan is going to blow up in his face. He’ll figure it out. It’ll probably be Two-Face who topples him. She hopes he breaks a bone.

“I think we’ll be going,” she says.

Cobblepot levels the gun at Blackbird. Good choice. “I don’t think so.”

To her credit, Blackbird doesn’t move.

Then, exactly what Cat was afraid of happens. A patch of darkness on the ceiling detaches itself and crashes into Cobblepot with heavy boots and gloved fists.

When he’s unconscious, Cat says, “God _damn_ it, Bruce.” She hates being rescued, especially by him.

“How dare you?” His voice is rough with what she recognizes as fear. “And don’t—don’t call me that, you—”

She can’t tell through the mask, but he knows she’s looking at Blackbird.

“Helena,” he says.

She winces. “Hi, dad.”

“Shit,” says Robin.

Bruce looks like he doesn’t know who to yell at first. “Selina, what are you _doing_?” He never uses real names when he’s in costume. Cat must have really fucked up. “She asked. All three of them asked. They wanted to help, and I thought—I didn’t think this would be dangerous.”

“It’s all dangerous,” Bruce snaps. “Our _daughter_ ,” Selina. And Robin! _My_ partner!”

“Sorry,” Robin says, not exactly sounding sorry. “But I thought if I came along, I could teach Blackbird and Jay some stuff.”

Bruce seems to see Jay for the first time. Selina thinks he might be even angrier as he realizes who she is. It’s one thing to make his daughter a crimefighter and steal his sidekick, but some things are sacred, and those things usually involve Jim Gordon.

“Barbara,” he growls.

“Babs,” she says calmly. “Or Jay. Probably safer, right now. Don’t tell my dad?”

Cat winces.

Back at the manor, the girls safely out of the way, Bruce shuts the door to the drawing room firmly behind him.

“You don’t trust me,” Cat says. “You’ve never trusted me.”

“Because you _lie_ to me,” Bruce snarls. Bruce. Batman. Whatever. Cat isn’t sure and right now she doesn’t care.

“I lie to you because you can’t handle the truth,” Cat says. She learned that when Bruce was prepubescent. “You wouldn’t have let me take the girls out.”

Bruce fumes and clenches his fists and finally, finally tamps down on the rage. “For different reasons,” he says icily. “Stephanie works with _me_. Barbara is Jim’s daughter, and he already hates me enough. But Helena—I want to protect her from all this.”

Bruce probably doesn’t even realize that’s a lie. If he thought _all this_ were so bad, he’d be leading a different life.

“You can’t,” she says instead. “Not if the two of us are out fighting crime. One way or another, she’ll get pulled in. She wanted to test the waters. I let her.”

Bruce just looks at her. “I’ll never forgive you for Helena and Jim will never forgive you for Barbara.”

Cat has a sudden hilarious vision of Jim, Bruce, and the Cluemaster all getting together to decide what to do about their wayward daughters. The reality is going to be a lot worse. Bruce, she knows, will forgive her. Jim won’t, and that’s going to ruin everything. But Babs asked, and Cat couldn’t say no.

“I want to call Jim,” she says.

On her way down the hall, she runs into Alfred. “Talk some sense into him,” she says.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead of calling Jim, Cat sneaks out the window.

**Helena**

The next day, the girls are all in trouble. Helena’s parents aren’t speaking to each other (although that happens often enough that she knows it won’t last more than two days), Steph’s sleeping outside somewhere, and Babs is in semi-literal house arrest. That night, Helena is startled by someone throwing rocks at her window.

“Hey,” Steph calls up. “Think I’m fired?” Her hair is sticking up.

Helena doesn’t help her climb the side of the house, but she doesn’t stop her, either.

“We need to call Jay,” Steph says when she tumbles into the room. “I didn’t know she was Commissioner Gordon’s kid!”

“I don’t think my mom wanted to spread that around,” Helena says. She gets out her laptop and skypes Babs, who is never _not_ by a computer.

“Hey,” Babs says, appearing on the screen.

“Hey. It’s me and Robin. Steph.”

“Yeah, hi,” Babs says wearily. “So.”

“Okay, me first,” Helena says. “Things aren’t totally okay, but they’re better. Steph isn’t fired. Mom and dad are talking to each other. I’m not a hundred percent banned forever from fighting crime. Your turn.”

Babs sighs. “Worse than you. My dad’s _definitely_ not letting me out there. He said if I want to fight crime to be a cop. I think he was serious.”

“You’re not bad at sneaking out,” Helena says hopefully. She already knows what Babs is going to say.

“If I do that, my dad won’t just be pissed at me. He’ll be pissed at your mom which he already is. I’m not going to be personally responsible for breaking down crime-fighter/police relations, thanks.”

Helena doesn’t think, in the long run, that she and Babs _mesh_. “Fine,” she says. “Robin and Blackbird, no Jay. We’ll do fine once my parents work their stuff out.” Maybe she’ll even get to go on patrol with her dad.

“Hold on, I’m not hanging up my cape yet,” Babs says impatiently. “But maybe I could—I don’t know, work from home?”

“That’s stupid,” Helena says automatically.

“I just don’t want my dad to freak out,” Babs says for about the twentieth time since last night. “He’s so upset.”

Helena doesn’t actually care if _her_ dad is upset. He didn’t tell her he was Batman, so she doesn’t owe him anything, as far as she’s concerned.

Steph is looking out the window, bored. “Are we going to finish this mission, or what?”

“No!” Babs snaps. “Look, this is already messed up enough. We’re in trouble, Helena’s mom is in trouble—”

“Yeah, and Gotham’s in trouble,” Steph snaps back. “I’m supposed to be Robin, right? Batman would want me doing this.”

Helena’s private opinion is that a lot of this is about Steph’s daddy issues, but she can’t exactly get away with saying that. It’ll come back at her.

“What are we supposed to do?” Babs asks. “Cat already got the Penguin.”

“But Two-Face and the Riddler are still out there,” Helena says. And Steph’s dad, but really, how much of a threat is he?

“Let the police—”Babs starts.

“We get it!” Steph says loudly. “Daddy’s little girl. Why are you even here if the police are so on top of things? Two-Face is almost always free.”

Babs sighs. “I think I know where he’s hiding.”

Helena and Steph look at each other.

“Batman—I mean, your dad, he won’t let you go, Helena,” Babs says. “He’ll say the same thing my dad did. It’s too dangerous. We’re too young.”

“You’re my age,” Steph says, sounding disgusted. “So it’s okay for me, but not for you? I get it. The street kid with shitty parents can die for Gotham, but the princesses can’t.”

Helena didn’t know that’s how Steph felt. Maybe she should have.

“Sorry,” Babs says, after an uncomfortable silence. “I mean—do you want help sneaking out, Helena?”

“It’s okay,” Helena says, not looking at Steph. “I can figure that part out on my own. Once we’re out there, though, yeah.”

Steph clears her throat. “Later. I think Alfred’s listening.”

Helena thinks Alfred would probably let them go, but she’s not sure, so she agrees.

**Alfred**

“How’re you and Selina?” Alfred asks. People’s business is their own, but only until it affects others.

Jim gives him a deeply weary look across the table. They’re in Jim’s house, and therefore out of Alfred’s comfort zone. But he had to come. Jim refused to come there.

“She put my daughter in blue spandex and let her parade across the rooftops in front of armed criminals,” Jim says.

Alfred waits.

“Did you know?” Jim asks.

“I told you I saw Selina with the three of them,” Alfred says. If Jim is fishing for lies, Alfred has plenty. He’d rather not use them, though.

“Did you know it was Babs?”

“No,” Alfred says. Oh well. Pity. You can always tell the truth. Wouldn’t do, upsets people.

“Good.” Jim rubs his eyes. “Selina and I are fine, as long as she never does it again. Whether it’s true or not, she convinced me she never meant to take them anywhere dangerous. And Helena was with her, so I believe it. She has some sense.”

_She’s not Bruce, you mean_ , Alfred thinks. Instead, he says, “But you stand by what you said? About involving children in this?”

Jim plays with his cigarette lighter. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I can stand by and still work with them.”

Jim has stood for many things, in the time Alfred had known him. Stood for them, fallen for them, fallen back across his own lines, redrawn the lines, changed the rules, changed himself, all of it to try to fit himself inside a moral code that makes sense. Bruce has never once changed his moral code. Alfred doesn’t know which of them is more foolish. Someday he’s going to find someone sane to care for.

“What would you do?” Jim asks. “If it were your kid?”

Alfred thinks Jim is sometimes an idiot. Instead of answering, he says, “They’re all right, the kids. They’ll be fine. They take after their parents.”

If Jim doesn’t find this comforting, he doesn’t let on.


End file.
